Tag Archives: Ontario

Our personal ‘Canada Day‘ falls a little early; we celebrated 8 years since we arrived in Canada as ‘landed immigrants’ on Sunday June 25 (of course, since then, we became Canadian Citizens in 2014).

In honour of the occasion we took in some history at Bellevue House, briefly home to Sir John A. MacDonald (Canada’s first Prime Minister), an unusual and rather impractical house built in the 1840s in the Italianate style. We were delighted that this visit included an exhibition of Indigenous Art in recognition that celebrating Confederation, particularly Canada 150, carries some discomfort about what it is we celebrate.

That sense of homecoming finds constant affirming echoes. Seeley’s Bay is a little smaller than Tisbury[1] and Kingston rather bigger than Salisbury[2] but there is a comfortable resonance. The Bath Stone I grew up with is oolitic limestone; Kingston is known as the ‘Limestone City’. As the original capital of Upper Canada, Kingston has older buildings (if not ‘old’ by European standards) than much of Canada, from elegant mansions to more humble cottages, as does the surrounding area. Kingston’s Springer Market Square evokes memories of Salisbury’s market and especially of trips to the fair. There will always be an inward smile when we go to a play Thousand Island’s Playhouse; Salisbury Playhouse was one of the treasures of my early life (so awesome to find a really rich theatrical culture around us here).

A long time British immigrant mentioned to me the other day that one thing she does miss about the UK is the diversity of the scenery within a relatively small area. Canada is a country known for its vast panoramic landscapes and, sometimes, they can go on for just a bit too long. Here we wend our winding way along roads that transition between bucolic agricultural vistas, craggy outcrops of shield rock that belong much further north, typical Ontario marsh, woodland, and jaw-dropping water views.

Lower Brewers LockWoodland ascent to Rock DunderView from Rock Dunder, the highest point between Kingston and Ottawa

I do not, honestly, miss England. But it seems that I have sought out a place that brings past and present together, integrating those things that I loved and valued in my childhood with the choice I have made to be Canadian. That feels like a pretty good opening for the next chapter!

[1] Tisbury was my nearest village growing up, about 3 miles from the hamlet where we lived.
[2] Likewise, Salisbury, at 12 miles away, was our nearest city.

Community in Carrying Place

We have stepped into the pages of a novel filled with richly drawn characters – more than a hint of Stephen Leacock, but giving life too to my reading of Mary Lawson (writing about a more northerly Ontario rural community), Robertson Davies’ Salterton Trilogy, Monique Proulx’s Laurentian forest folk. I think perhaps it is easier to live in an unconstrainedly authentic way outside a city. Whether this is because of the people this life attracts, the grounding effect of an ever-present awareness of the natural world, less pressure from the tyranny of ‘nomal’ or something I do not yet understand I am not sure.

I love that there are farming families who have been here for generations, with a deep knowledge of and love for the land. There are those who left but felt the tug of their roots and returned, those who came thirty or twenty years ago, those who drive five hours each way every summer weekend from Pennsylvania or western Ontario, and newcomers like us – a healthy mix that includes at least a little multicultural leavening. It is good to know that about 60% of us are permanent residents.

The community is drawn from all walks of life; as well as the farming families we have so far met a lawyer, a civil servant fresh from a posting as Consul General, the published author of a fantasy novel, a forensic psychologist, a tech entrepreneur, a lawyer, a physiotherapist, a wonderful character with many stories to tell who described starting adult life as a ‘huckster’[1], the Chinese owner of a local fishing lodge and his wife who runs an LED import business, a couple with a tech background who have a smallholding with a straw-bale home, and more.

One eighty-year-old neighbor settled here with her ex-naval husband after travelling the seas on a schooner he built. She is on intimate terms with the raccoons, as well as the ubiquitous chipmunks and squirrels, and has this summer permitted the construction of the Groundhog Hilton in her rockery, though she plans a forced resettlement of the young engineer next Spring.

One of our resident chipmunks

The pot of honey and card that arrived on our doorstep between our pre-closing inspection and our return from the lawyer with the ‘keys to the kingdom’ were no one-off. There is a genuine kindness and warmth that seems to characterize our new ‘hood; people take care of each other. There will always be someone willing to share their knowledge or who can help with the things that need doing. And there is something pretty awesome about setting out for an evening paddle and ending up getting to know new neighbours over a beer on their island party deck!

[1] Dictionary definition of huckster: retailer of small articles, especially a peddler of fruits and vegetables; hawker.

Nestled in the woods just north of Frontenac Provincial Park, Wintergreen is a year-round education and retreat centre. Their focus is education, culture, and the environment and they offer courses and retreat and meeting facilities for individuals and groups.

This last weekend we had the pleasure of staying two nights in the main lodge, a wonderful, off-grid straw-bale building with a green roof. The lodge sits in a meadow, immediately surrounded by flowers, herbs and vegetables with the forest beyond.

Wintergreen’s 204 acres features mixed forests and meadows, granite outcroppings, ponds, marshes, and a glacier carved lake – we managed to explore a good part of this during an awesome two-hour wilderness hike.

I watched a beaver slide into a pond and swim across it, my first certain sighting. Less romantically but no less a landmark, I picked my first tick off my clothing as we sat on the dock by the glacial lake. With ticks increasingly present – even in Toronto this summer – and concerns about Lyme Disease, this is something we all need to know about!

I stopped worrying about sticking to ‘the beaten track’ (sometimes we lost the trail for a while) and soaked up the beauty of the woodland, the lake and ponds, the rock, as we explored, occasionally investigating one of the wilderness cabins (including a hobbit house) that dot the property. We did do a thorough tick inspection when we got back to the lodge, though.

Earlier that day, I had joined thirteen other women in ‘Celebrating the Sacredness of Woman’, a workshop led by Julie Vachon a Metis woman who has studied with many elders and has attended ceremonies over the last 18 years. Among other things, we shared a new moon pipe, part of a ceremonial setting of personal intention at Sturgeon Moon, the August new moon. At a moment when my life is literally at the cusp of a major transition, this was moving and profound, as well as joyous.

This was one of those magic times outside time that feels utterly ‘meant’!